


Seven Down, Three To Go

by GalaxyGazing



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Hand Jobs, Loss of Limbs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:34:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8638897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGazing/pseuds/GalaxyGazing
Summary: Junkrat loses two more fingers, to no one's surprise, and Roadhog decides to help the poor kid out.





	

 

With Junkrat’s profession of choice, it was likely that all of his extremities had a countdown clock. With a leg and an arm already gone, it surprised exactly no one that two more fingers soon followed.

Not even Junkrat himself was shocked enough to react appropriately. A distraction from Tracer made him hold a cherry bomb a split second too long and when it detonated he simply whined a disgruntled, “Aww, fuckin’…” before finishing the battle like a trooper. And winning like a psychopath.

That was a month ago, if Roadhog recalled correctly. His spindly partner in crime had been appropriately stitched and fitted with a wrist wrap of the same make as his already-missing arm. It replaced his ring and pinky finger so immaculately that Junkrat didn’t complain once. Roadhog was convinced it didn’t hinder him at all until one night he woke to find him missing.

It wasn’t like Roadhog to lose track of the kid. In fact, he’d never done it before. He was the perfect bodyguard, always hyper-aware, which could only mean Junkrat had made a deliberate effort to get away unseen.

It didn’t take long to find him, though. Out in the dark and wild, even Junkrat knew better than to wander too far, and he apparently had only wanted to get out of earshot. As Roadhog slowly approached, he saw why.

‘Rat was on his knees behind a broken piece of wall. He faced the bricks, full mechanical hand splayed over the rough surface to hold himself up, half-mechanical hand fumbling between his legs. His singed shorts were still about his hips, but just barely, and the material shook with his efforts.

But things weren’t going smoothly. Though it was apparent to Roadhog what Junkrat was attempting, his movements weren’t consistent enough to get him anywhere.

“Fuck…” ‘Rat hissed in frustration. A few more beats of silence, “Aw, fuck, come _on_ …”

Roadhog was frozen in place, silently watching the struggle. Junkrat’s head was bent low in concentration but, for all his efforts, nothing was working for him. Two less biological fingers and still-healing nerves seemed to suggest this would take some relearning, but the kid’s lower half wanted no excuses.

“Oh, fuck it…damnit, hh—“ Junkrat growled, balling his mechanical hand into a fist against the wall, sliding down it a bit. At last he seemed to give up and Roadhog saw his other hand fall defeatedly to his side. Junkrat leaned his forehead against the brick and trembled from exhaustion.

As soon as Roadhog took a step he knew he would be heard so he had to move quickly. Without so much as a word, he approached Junkrat, kneeling behind him. Junkrat had just enough time to jerk his head up to see what was going on before a warm belly was pressed to the curve of his back and an enormous hand was wrapped around his dick.

“Wh—“ was all ‘Rat could ask before it was obvious what was happening.

Roadhog’s hands were massive, and even squeezed around Junkrat’s erection he was probably only working him between his curled pinky and ring finger. Ironic, really. With his other hand, he held Junkrat close to him by the chest so he didn’t wiggle too much.

Junkrat arched into him, mechanical arm leaving the wall and hooking around the hand that held him as if he meant to tear free, but he didn’t. His other hand rested atop Roadhog’s working one, his last three real fingers enjoying the roughness of his partner’s.

“Ah-” Junkrat choked, breath hitched. His narrow hips tried for a moment to fuck Roadhog’s hand until it became clear that they were going at Roadhog's pace, like it or not, and his own actions were counterproductive.

Junkrat threw his head back in pleasured delirium and then bent it low again, seemingly enjoying the strength with which Roadhog was keeping him pinned, like he was just along for the ride he was being given and, _oh_ , how he wanted to be.

Neither could think of anything to say. Nothing needed to be said. They’d never done anything like this before, and it was unclear if ‘Hog was just taking pity on him, but Junkrat was not about to care. Especially not when his hefty partner rolled and squeezed his fingers, teasing the slit in a way that had him leaking precome with a hitched sob.

“Fuckfuckfuck—“ Junkrat hissed so quietly that it was evident he didn’t want Roadhog to hear, but of course he did, and his bodyguard breathed a low growl of his own through his mask. That sound reverberated through Junkrat’s entire body.

Junkrat’s voice faltered when his partner decided to speed his pace. His own tiny hands, or what was left of them, scrambled over Roadhog’s larger-than-life ones. He was bucking his hips again, this time in sync with Roadhog’s stroking, and Roadhog decided to let him.

When the nose of Roadhog’s mask nuzzled 'Rat's ear and his rumbling earthquake of voice commanded “ _Come_ ,” Junkrat did so over, and over, and over, and over.

‘Hog milked him through it until the little Junker was absolutely spent and he felt those lanky limbs relax, at last. He separated from him slowly as to not let him collapse under the weakness of his wobbly knee. Junkrat fought to catch his breath in amazement.

When Roadhog finally stood, he beckoned for his partner to follow him back to where they had been sleeping.

“Do not leave my sight again.”

“Right, mate.”

 

 


End file.
